Plain coat. Nervous hands. Eyes that avoided his.
Yet the way his assistant hovered near the door told him this was not ordinary gossip.
"You said you had information about Jasmine Cole," Keith began, voice cool. "Speak."
The woman swallowed.
"My name is Mira. I used to work at the clinic downtown."
Keith's brows pulled together.
"And?"
She twisted the strap of her bag.
"I saw Miss Cole there… months ago."
He leaned back in his chair, already bored.
"My ex-wife's medical visits are none of my concern."
Mira took a shaky breath.
"She was pregnant."
The pen in Keith's hand slipped.
For a moment, the entire office went silent.
"What did you say?"
"Pregnant," the woman repeated, braver now. "About six weeks along at the time. I remembered her because… she looked so alone."
Keith stared at her, certain he had misunderstood.
"That's impossible."
Mira shook her head. "I saw the report myself."
A child.
Jasmine carrying his child.
His mind raced backward—dates, nights, memories he had tried to erase. Their last month together. The distance. The quiet.
The anniversary.
His chest tightened.
"Where is she now?" he demanded.
"I don't know," Mira admitted. "But I thought you should—"
"Get out."
The words came sharper than he intended.
She left quickly.
The door closed.
And Keith Ardent sat alone with a truth he had never imagined.
Jasmine felt the contraction while folding laundry.
At first she thought it was nothing—just the baby stretching, just another ordinary evening.
Then the pain returned, stronger.
"Okay, little one," she whispered, gripping the table. "Maybe not tonight, hmm?"
But her son had other plans.
Two hours later she was in a hospital bed, sweat on her forehead, fear and excitement tangling inside her ribs.
"You're doing great," the nurse encouraged.
Jasmine nodded, biting her lip.
She wished, just for a second, that she had someone to hold her hand.
Her mother was on her way.
Her friends were busy with their own lives.
And the man who should have been here didn't even know this child existed.
"It's just us," she murmured to her belly. "We don't need anyone else."
Keith drove through the city like a man being chased.
Pregnant.
The word echoed louder than the traffic.
How had she kept this from him?
Why hadn't she said anything?
Anger mixed with something deeper—something dangerously close to panic.
He stopped at the old apartment first.
New tenants.
No forwarding address.
He called her number for the first time in months.
The number you have dialed is not available.
His grip tightened on the phone.
"Find her," he barked into his assistant's voicemail. "Tonight."
A baby's cry split the hospital room at 3:17 a.m.
Jasmine was crying too—soft, exhausted tears as the nurse placed the tiny, warm bundle against her chest.
"Congratulations, Mommy. You have a healthy baby boy."
A boy.
He had Keith's dark hair.
Her gentle eyes.
Perfect.
"Hello, Ethan," she whispered, naming him with a heart full of promises. "I'm your mama."
In that moment, every pain she had endured felt worth it.
No betrayal could touch this.
No memory of Keith could ruin it.
She kissed her son's forehead.
"We're going to be okay."
Three days later, Jasmine walked out of the hospital carrying her entire world in her arms.
Outside, the sun was bright. Life continued like nothing dramatic had happened.
She didn't notice the black car parked across the street.
Didn't notice the man inside staring at her as if he had seen a ghost.
Keith Ardent watched Jasmine step onto the sidewalk, thinner than before, softer, glowing in a way he had never seen.
Then his gaze dropped.
To the baby in her arms.
His heart stopped.